"I claim the right to be heard; will the Court refuse me the privilege
of a word?" His voice was a challenge. "I am known in this community.
For seven years as a minister of the Gospel I have lived among these
citizens. My son is about to be condemned to State's prison, and before
he goes I want to make a statement here before him and before the judge
and before the world. I understand this boy better than any of you,
better than the mother who bore him, for I have given him the
disposition which he bears. I have had from my youth the same murderous
rages: I have them yet. I love my son, your Honor, and I would take him
in my arms if I could, but he has too much of my own spirit. He
literally can not meet me as an affectionate son, for I sacrificed his
good-will by harsh measures while he was yet a babe. I make this
confession in order that the Court may understand my relation to my son.
He was born with my own temper mingled with the poetic nature of his
mother. While he was yet a lad I beat him till he was discolored by
bruises. Twice I would have killed him only for the intervention of my
wife. I have tried to live down my infirmity, your Honor, and I have at
last secured control of myself, and I believe this boy will do the same,
but do not send him to be an associate with criminals. My God! do not
treat him as I would not do, even in my worst moments. Give him a chance
to reform outside State's prison. Don't fix on him that stain. I will
not say send me--that would be foolish trickery--but I beg you to make
some other disposition of this boy of mine. If he goes to the
penitentiary I shall strip from my shoulders the dress of the clergyman
and go with him, to be near to aid and comfort him during the term of
his sentence. Let the father in you speak for me, judge. Be merciful, as
we all hope for mercy on the great day, for Jesus' sake."
The judge looked out over the audience of weeping women and his face
warmed into life. He turned to the minister, who still stood before him
with hand outstretched, and when he spoke his voice was softened and his
eyes kindly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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